


The Blue Lagoon

by IdontlikeIobsess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Desert Island Fic, Fluff, M/M, Slight Panic Attack, The Blue Lagoon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdontlikeIobsess/pseuds/IdontlikeIobsess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles turns his head to the left and focuses on the person sitting next to him. Derek Hale is staring down at him with a concerned expression, his brow furrowed and his lips turned down. He’s soaking wet and his hair is sticking to his forehead, but he looks good—even if exhausted—without any visible wounds. A sudden though hits Stiles like a sledgehammer. </p><p>“The boat party… oh my god, where are we?”</p><p>Derek’s eyes leave Stiles’ face, looking around them. “I don’t know. A desert island?”</p><p>*</p><p>A Teen Wolf/The Blue Lagoon AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> For Bitetime Fest, inspired by The Blue Lagoon (2012)

Stiles thinks it’s bullshit what everyone says about death: he doesn’t see his entire life in those last moments of clarity, because the only thing his brain can process is his desperate need for oxygen. As the salty water pushes past his lips and down to his lungs, filling them up, Stiles can’t even think about his dad, or Scott, or how pissed off Mr. Harris and Finstock must be when they’ll find out that one of the students they were supposed to take care of is dead in the middle of nowhere.

Two strong hands grab him under his armpits.

With the last spark of strength still in his muscles, Stiles forces his body not to become a dead weight and tries to move his feet to swim. The first gulp of air is the best thing Stiles has ever experienced in his entire life, even better than Jordan Parrish telling him he looks cute in his new red shirt or the University of Berkley accepting him as one of its students. Stiles comes up and – true— his lungs are burning, but he’s still alive, coughing and spitting everywhere. Someone is keeping him afloat and talking, but Stiles can’t make out the words until he feels sand between his fingers and the hot rays of the sun on his skin. He’s still coughing and his chest aches, but the same person who helped him out of the water is talking again, so Stiles tries to focus on what he’s saying.

“We were literally in five feet of water, Stiles! How the hell did you almost drown? I swear, if you die on me now I’m going to resuscitate you and then kill you again.”

Stiles blinks his eyes open and then shuts them closed again because the sun is shining high in a blue sky, blinding him. He brings an arm to his face and tries to open his eyes again. He’s laying on his back on a beautiful beach, the endless ocean in front of him. When he looks up the sky is so blue and bright that Stiles is sure he has never seen a color so deep in Beacon Hills. He hears birds singing, the rumble of the ocean, the same annoying person who saved him still talking beside him. He smells salt, clean air and _blood_.

“Stiles, can you hear me? Please, say something.”

“Am I bleeding?” Stiles asks. His voice is rough and croaky, and he fights against another fit of cough before he can breathe again.

“Yeah, you split your eyebrow. You’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Stiles turns his head to the left and focuses on the person sitting next to him. Derek Hale is staring down at him with a concerned expression, his brow furrowed and his lips turned down. He’s soaking wet and his hair is sticking to his forehead, but he looks good—even if exhausted—without any visible wounds. A sudden though hits Stiles like a sledgehammer.

“The boat party… oh my god, where are we?”

Derek’s eyes leave Stiles’ face, looking around them. “I don’t know. A desert island?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Stiles forces himself up on his elbows and waits until his head stops spinning. He touches his eyebrow and winces when a pang of pain shoots through his head. As soon as he looks around though, he knows that Derek is completely serious. The beach is a thin line of sand that leads to thick and tall trees. The woods look dark and threatening even in the bright morning light, and Stiles shivers at the thought of the wild animals that could live in there.

Derek shakes his head. “Not kidding. How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Do you feel like walking? I think we should explore the island. You know, find a safe place to spend the night.”

Stiles swallows. “Spend the night? Dude, they’re going to come and save us in like an hour.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Scott and Lydia were on the boat with us!” Stiles says. “They know I’m missing.”

Derek doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands up and brushes the sand off his hands and clothes. “I’m sure they’re already looking for you, Stiles. But we’re stuck in the middle of the ocean, so it might take a while for them to find us, don’t you think? If you want to stay here it’s fine, I’m going to do something useful.”

Stiles scrambles to his feet. “You can’t leave me here!”

“Follow me, then.”

Stiles huffs and does as Derek said. As soon as he moves, he finds out that wet jeans are not the right clothes to explore a desert island in. The material rubs against his thighs and the maddening grains of sand stuck to his clothes are driving him crazy. His shoes are the worst. The socks are sticking to the sole, so Stiles kicks them off and carries them in his hands.

Derek’s wearing jeans, too, and his shirt is still wet and sticking to his chest and back like a second skin, but he doesn’t seem bothered like Stiles is. He keeps walking on the beach, leaving big footprints on the sand. Stiles thinks that they’re both acting calm and collected because they haven’t realized what kind of mess they’re in, yet. He remembers the boat party Scott dragged him to, he remembers Lydia dancing with a tanned guy, but the image impressed in his mind is Derek jumping off the boat to save him. It’s in that moment that Stiles realizes that he has been the one falling off the boat, even if he doesn’t know how he did it. He’s not _that_ clumsy.

He falls into step with Derek when they’re about to enter the woods.

“Do you really want to go in there?” Stiles asks. “It might be dangerous.”

“Well, if you have a secret stock of food hidden somewhere I’m ready to share it with you,” Derek snaps, not stopping when the sand starts to turn into soft green grass. He shoots a look at Stiles over his shoulder. “You can always wait here.”

Stiles groans. “I’m coming.”

They walk through the woods for hours. Derek moves like a robot, not stopping when a branch cuts the skin of his arm or when they hear a growl from the deepest part of the forest. Stiles, on the other hand, trips and stumbles his way through colorful flowers and huge trees with thick trunks. He gapes at the weird birds resting on the highest branches and he’s ready to swear he sees a monkey when Derek’s marching halts to a stop, making Stiles stumble into Derek’s firm body.

Derek rights him and then steps away. “The island is not that big,” he says. “There’s plenty of fruit on the trees. Our only problem is water.”

Stiles already feels his throat dry. He licks his lips in a vain attempt to wet them, but he only makes things worse. The forest is a cacophony of sounds and noises so different from what Stiles is used to, that he’s freaking out a little. He keeps expecting to spot a man behind a tree or a car parked on the edge of the woods, but the idea that he and Derek are the only people on the island—maybe the only people in that part of the ocean— is starting to sink in. Stiles takes a deep breath, fighting against the panic attack that is squeezing his lungs.

“How are we supposed to go on without water?” he asks. “I read somewhere that a man can go on without food for days, but we’re doomed without water.”

The skin between his thighs hitches because his jeans are still wet down there, his feet hurt from all the walking and he has little cuts everywhere, from his face to his naked toes. He feels like an invisible hand is constricting his lungs, making him sink to the ground with a wheeze.

“Stiles?”

Stiles can’t talk, too focused on pushing air inside his body. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his heart, hoping that it’ll calm down soon. He’s alone on an island with a guy he doesn’t even know that well. Hell, he’s pretty sure Derek Hale didn’t even know Stiles existed before they were stuck on that stupid island. His Dad and his best friends are miles and miles away…Stiles doesn’t even know how many because he doesn’t know where the island is. He’ll probably die in the middle of the ocean, but if he makes it out alive Berkley will withdraw his scholarship because Stiles was on an _illegal_ boat party, and there were probably drugs and alcohol everywhere and—

Derek kneels next to him and puts Stiles’ free hand over his chest. “Breathe with me.”

Stiles tries his best. After what seems like hours, he feels the invisible hand loosen his grip on his lungs. He breathes again.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers.

Derek shrugs and sits beside Stiles, letting Stiles’ hand fall away from his chest. They’re sitting in the middle of the forest, defenseless and vulnerable and exhausted. If the beast that growled before is hungry, they’d make the perfect meal. Stiles is skinny, but Derek has muscles and muscles of fresh meat, so maybe the beast will spare Stiles’ life.

“We should go back to the beach,” Derek says. “Maybe it will rain.”

They both look up at a bright and blue sky, with no signs of clouds. Stiles drops his head down between his knees because he doesn’t want to cry in front of Derek. He wipes his cheek against his leg and closes his eyes for a moment. That’s when he hears the sound. It’s finally a sound he knows, something that he can relate to his life in Beacon Hills.

“Do you hear it?” Stiles asks.

It sounds like a shower, even if it’s an absurd thought. Stiles shoots to his feet and walks towards the sound, Derek hot on his heels.

“Stiles, what—” Derek starts. Then, he must hear it, too. “Tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

Stiles lets out a shout when the forest thins out and he’s suddenly standing on a very high rock. He looks down, and a perfect circle of crystalline water glimmers back at him. Stiles turns to look at Derek, who’s emerging from the woods.

“It’s a waterfall!” Stiles shouts. “Derek, we have water. We’re not going to die!”

Derek grins at him and takes Stiles’ hand, leading him down to the lagoon. When they reach the water Derek takes off his shirt and jeans, throwing them on a rock along with his shoes. He walks into the blue lagoon and closes his eyes, savoring the incredible feeling of clean water on his skin.

“The sand on my clothes was driving me crazy,” Derek tells Stiles.

He dips down underwater, giving Stiles a clear view of his ass. He resurfaces like one of those models in a perfume ad, with little drops shining on his skin and his hair wet. Stiles fidgets and sits on one of the rocks that surround the lagoon. He still feels fuzzy from his panic attack, and now his head is spinning because Derek is swimming almost naked in front of him. Stiles watches as the other boy washes his body from the sand and dirt, cleaning the little cuts from the branches.

The lagoon is incredible. An idyllic oasis of clean, potable water for them to use. It’s surrounded by big, grey rocks and green and tall trees that cast a cool shadow on the soft grass. The waterfall is shorter than Stiles thought, but still high enough for Derek to bathe under it. It sends little sprays of water on Derek’s face, making him smile in a way that Stiles has never seen before—at school or anywhere else.

“Your eyebrow is still bleeding,” Derek tells him.

Stiles nods and looks down at his legs. His thighs are burning from the sand and wet jeans, and his feet are cut in several different places. He brings a hand to his head and fresh blood stains his fingers.

“Oh, fuck it,” Stiles says.

He’s not allowed to feel self conscious right now. This is a life-or-death situation, and if someone doesn’t rescue them soon, Stiles will have to be comfortable around Derek. He frees himself of his clothes and walks into the water, covering his chest with his arms.

“Oh my god,” Stiles moans as soon as the water reaches the stinging skin between his thighs. He swims deeper into the lagoon until only his head is still out. Stiles scrubs the dirt from his skin and –just like Derek did—cleans the wound on his eyebrow and the little cuts all over his body. The water around him starts to turn red from the blood, so Stiles swims closer to Derek, who’s still standing under the waterfall.

“This place is heaven,” Stiles says.

Derek nods, turning towards him. “Thank god you heard the water,” he says. “How’s your eyebrow?”

“At least it’s clean now.”

Derek nods. “We should go back to the beach and decide what to do. I—I lost my phone during the storm and I had nothing else on me last night. What about you?”

“I still have my phone, but it’s useless,” Stiles says. “Nothing else.”

They look at each other, the waterfall between them.

“We’re going to be okay,” Derek says.

 

*

 

The boat party was supposed to be a way to distract Scott from his thoughts about Allison staying in Beacon Hills and not coming to their school trip in Trinidad. Her father didn’t like the idea of having his daughter so far away from him after the death of his wife a little less than a year ago, so Allison had waved them goodbye from the sidewalk as the school bus took the rest of the class to the airport.

“I can’t even text her,” Scott said, frowning down at his phone. “There’s no reception in this place!”

“Well, we’re not supposed to spend our time _texting_ ,” Lydia said. “We have a school to build.”

Scott and Stiles had rolled their eyes just as Derek Hale walked past them, on his way to his hotel room.  Derek shouldered his way past Scott and waited for the elevator, tightening his hold on his suitcase.

“Oh my god, Stiles, stop drooling,” Lydia said.

“What? Me, drooling? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Derek is weird, man,” Scott said. “I don’t know why you like him. I mean, he’s good-looking, but he never talks to us.”

“Why should he?” Stiles sighed, watching as Derek disappeared inside the elevator. “Okay, he’s kind of a loner, but I’m sure he’s a great guy, you know? My Dad—my dad told me that he lost almost his entire family in a fire a few years ago. He has all the reasons in this world to be the way he is.”

“Oh my god, you’re in _love_!” Lydia squealed. “Of course you’re in love with Derek. You made us change tables during lunch so you could have a better look at him. Scott, we’ve been so blind!”

“Dude, is she saying the truth?” Scott asked.

“Look, I’m not in love with him, okay? I think he’s cute, that’s all. It’s not like he’ll ever notice me.”

Lydia shrugged. “I wonder why he came to this trip. He doesn’t look like he wants to socialize with any of us,” she said, shooting a final glance towards the elevator. “Anyway, I heard there’s a boat party tonight. Are you guys in? Stiles, maybe you could invite Derek.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious! Maybe he’ll lighten up a bit!”

“I’m in,” Scott said. “I swear, Finstock put us in the most boring hotel ever. There’s not even a pool.”

They both looked at Stiles, waiting for his answer. “Okay, I’m in,” he said. “We have to be careful, though, I don’t want to get caught.”

 

The party was in full swing when they arrived. There were dancers on the prow, half-naked and sensual. Everyone was drinking, and Lydia dragged Scott and Stiles to the bar, paying for three drinks.

“They didn’t even ask for my ID!” Lydia whispered, smiling to herself.

“They probably don’t care as long as you pay,” Stiles said.

He looked around himself, smiling as Lydia and Scott threw themselves into the dancing crowd. They sipped on their drinks as they moved their bodies to their music, shouting at Stiles to join them. Stiles shook his head, laughing at the ridiculous way Scott was dancing.

A hand fell on his shoulder. “Too bad you already have a drink, because I’d have offered you one,” said an handsome guy with pearl white teeth and a blinding smile. He was only wearing board shorts, his naked chest right in front of Stiles’ face, but he looked confident and calm. “I’m Kyle, by the way.”

Stiles waved at him. “I’m Stiles,” he said. “Is this—is this your boat?”

Kyle smiled. “How did you know?”

Stiles shrugged. “You looked like you own the place,” he said.

“You’re smart,” Kyle said. “Why don’t you follow me outside? The ocean looks beautiful tonight.”

“I—I’d like to stay here,” Stiles said. “I’m with my friends, you know? I don’t want to make them worried.”

He looked around for Scott and Lydia, but he couldn’t find them. There were even more people dancing now, and his two friends had disappeared in the crowd. Stiles turned to Kyle again, a nervous smile on his face.

“Oh, come on,” Kyle said. “You can’t spend the whole night at the bar.”

He grabbed Stiles by his hand and dragged him outside, where there were a lot less people and the moon was shining high in the dark blue sky. Stiles stayed away from the side of the ship because he knew himself all too well. He was about to open his mouth and ask one of the questions spinning around in his mind when the sudden noise of a siren –even louder than the music inside the boat—made Stiles cover his ears with his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kyle yelled.

Stiles looked around him to find Scott and Lydia, but everyone on the boat was running and trying to hide from the police. It was a complete mess, and Stiles started to panic at the thought of being arrested. Next to him, Kyle had lost all his coolness and was throwing sachet after sachet of a white, soft powder into the ocean. Stiles stared, shocked, as the owner of the boat rid himself of the drug. He looked around again, hoping to find Scott or Lydia somewhere, but a sudden weigh on his back threw him off balance and Stiles stumbled, falling over the railing of the boat.

The water hit him hard, but he resurfaced and started yelling for help. The siren and the music were too loud though, and he tried to swim closer to the boat to look for some sort of handhold, but another body fell right next to him into the water.

“Stiles, what the fuck are you doing?”

It was Derek Hale. Stiles stared as Derek grabbed the only dinghy that was hanging from the boat and put it in the water, urging Stiles to climb over it. Derek followed him, trying to keep the dinghy balanced in the ocean.

“They have to see us!” Stiles yelled.

He and Derek yelled and screamed until their throats were rough, trying to push the dinghy closer to the boat. The music was still too loud though, and the waves were starting to get bigger and bigger, leading them away from safety.

“Help me!” Stiles yelled.

They put their hands in the water, trying to use them as oars, but the party boat and the police boat were going further and further away from them, leaving Stiles and Derek alone in the middle of the ocean, in a dinghy that could barely contain one skinny teenager and his bulky companion.

“Don’t freak out, we’re going to be fine,” Derek said.

That’s when they heard the first thunder.

 

*

 

They settle on the part of the beach closest to the lagoon, clean and a lot less irritable than when they first entered the woods. Derek tells Stiles that the safest place to spend the night is the beach itself, away from the woods and with the moon shining bright in the sky. Stiles agrees—if only because the woods scare him a little—and follows Derek until they’re walking on the sand again.

“Do you know how to light a fire?” Derek asks, dropping down on the soft sand. He’s still only wearing his boxers, keeping his clothes under his armpit. Stiles is the same, because he doesn’t want to put his uncomfortable jeans on again and because his shoes and shirt are still wet.

“I’m sending a silent thank you to my dad for sending me to boy- scouts right now,” Stiles says. “It’s not easy, but I still have my phone. We can use the screen as a mirror while the sun’s still up. We have to find some dry leaves or something, though.”

Derek gapes at him for a moment before he catches himself. “We can grab the palm leaves that are all over this place.”

Stiles nods and walks to the edge of the woods, picking the driest leaves he finds on the ground. He also brings back to Derek a coconut, instructing him to find a rock to split the fruit in two and some other rocks to built the fire. Derek comes back with his arms full of big, grey stones, keeping one to himself and giving the rest to Stiles.

“I can do this,” Stiles says. He extracts his phone from his pocket, drying the screen with his hands. “I did it a hundred times with a mirror.”

He puts the phone in the right position and waits until the sunrays reflect on it and towards the palm leaves, forming a thin, weak column of smoke. Stiles coughs and squints his eyes, but keeps the phone still, waiting for the sun to do its effect. He adds a few more leaves, and when there’s the first hint of a timid flame, he grabs a short branch that Derek gave him and puts it in the middle of the circle of rocks that is supposed to contain their fire. He looks as the weak flames become bigger and bigger, sending waves of heat in Stiles’ face.

“Here,” Derek says, giving him half of the coconut. He looks at the fire with an awed expression, his eyes looking back and forth from the flames to Stiles. “You did a great job, Stiles.”

Stiles munches on the coconut, sending an half-smile at Derek. “It’s easier with the phone,” he shrugs. “Hey, can you give me your rock?”

Derek hands it to him. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not going to wear those jeans again. I was thinking about making them shorts,” Stiles grins, grabbing his trousers from where he had left them before. “I can do yours too, if you want.”

“That’d be great.”

Stiles cuts both pairs of jeans to the knee, giving back his to Derek when he’s done. “We’re going to need our clothes for the night, I think. The temperature will drop.”

They sit by the fire, watching the ocean in silence. The sun is starting to set, and the sky is turning dark. Stiles puts his shirt on, shivering a little and sitting closer to the fire.

“They’ll find us,” Stiles says.

Derek drops his head down on his knees and turns it a little to look at Stiles. For the first time since they found themselves on the island, Derek looks lost and sad. Stiles remembers how Derek has been the one of them to keep calm in every moment, even when they were floating in the middle of the ocean or when Stiles was having a panic attack in the heart of the forest.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, his voice thin and weak.

“Yes. My Dad will never leave me out here.”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know if my sister will look for me,” he whispers, staring at the flames.

“What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t she?”

Derek doesn’t answer. Stiles falls asleep when the first star pops up in the sky.

 

*

 

Stiles wakes up in a rush, sitting up on the sand. The fire is not burning anymore, and Derek is nowhere to be seen. Stiles looks around, panicked, and walks towards the edge of the woods. That’s when he spots Derek.

“Oh my god. Derek, are you crazy? I thought you were gone!”

Derek looks at him, his eyes bloodshot and with dark circles under them. “I was just looking for some branches.”

“Did you even sleep last night?”

Derek shakes his head. “I couldn’t. I kept hearing those noises from the woods, I couldn’t close my eyes.”

“You could have woken me up,” Stiles says. “We could have taken turns.”

Derek shrugs and keeps picking long and thick branches from the ground. “You almost drowned yesterday. You needed to sleep. How did you sleep, anyway?”

Stiles walks closer to Derek and helps him with the branches. “It was a nightmare without my pillow,” he says, shrugging. Damn, it’s only been a day and he already misses his soft, comfortable pillow. Stiles pictures it still laying on his bed. “What do you want to do with those?”

“I want to try and built an hut,” Derek explains. “I saw these big leaves that we could use to stick the branches together. It’s not going to be easy, but we can’t keep sleeping on the beach every night.”

They walk back to the fire and put the branches on the sand. Then, they find rocks, leaves and other branches for the hut Derek wants to build. It’s a good idea, Stiles thinks, because his skin is already hitching from the strong sun, especially his face and shoulders. They can use a little shelter to keep the few things they have safe.

The morning goes on like that. They pile up the materials they need and then Stiles follows Derek’s instructions when they have everything for the hut. They build fragile walls with the long branches Derek found earlier that morning, tying them together with fleshy and strong leaves. The roof is harder. They find the largest palm leaves on the island, and they try to balance them between the walls, but the leaves keep falling down. It’s frustrating, but Derek finally manages to keep them up by tying them together with his belt, just before their stomachs start growling.

They put all the things they have inside the hut. Their clothes make a pile on the sand along with their shoes. During the morning they’re forced to wear only a shirt and their underwear, because jeans are unbearable in the heat. They put Stiles’ phone on top of the pile of clothes and they tie the dinghy to a tree. Inside the dinghy, the only useful things they find is a flare gun with two shots in the barrel and two life jackets, one of which is holed and useless, but they keep it anyway. In the left corner, they stack the coconuts and the bananas they found on the beach that morning, a little stock for when they’re hungry.

When they step back to admire their work, the hut is askew and not very solid, but Stiles still feels proud of what they achieved with the few things they had. He turns to smile at Derek, who’s frowning at their shelter.

“I hope it won’t rain,” Derek says, walking around the hut for the last time before stopping beside Stiles.

“Hey, we did our best,” Stiles says.

Derek nods and passes him a banana. “Eat,” he says. He grabs a coconut for himself and then they sit on the soft sand, munching on their fruits. It’s been a little less than twenty-four hours on the island and even if Stiles can’t say he’s totally okay, he does feel a little more reassured to know that they have water and food to go on forever. Their hut is good, too, and Derek’s presence is calming and comforting. Stiles thinks that if he had been stuck on the island with Scott, they’d both be already dead. He doesn’t really know Derek, though. They shared what was necessary since they arrived on the island, but now that they’re calmer and not panicking anymore, Stiles remembers that he has a massive crush on Derek. Lydia would say that he’s in love, but Stiles isn’t—or at least he hopes so.

He clears his voice, catching Derek’s attention. “Thank you for saving me from the water,” he says. He hasn’t said anything to Derek about him almost drowning, but he knows he owns Derek his life. “Something was keeping me down and I—I couldn’t come up for air.”

Derek smirks. “I didn’t want to be alone on this island.”

“Oh, so you saved me?” Stiles smiles. “I didn’t think you even knew my name. I mean, you always ignore me and my friends at school, so it was weird when the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was your pret—uhm, I mean your face.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Hey, no, I’m glad you’re the one stuck on this island with me. Don’t get me wrong, I’d give anything to be in Beacon Hills right now, but there’s not much we can do, right?” Stiles pauses, shooting a look at Derek. “What were you doing on the party boat anyway? I didn’t think you were the party type.”

Derek scowls and looks away from Stiles without answering.

“Okay, okay, that’s not my business, I get it,” Stiles sighs. “We should get to know each other, though. I mean, they’ll probably find us soon enough, but in the meanwhile…”

“What do you want to know about me? It’s not like you paid me any attention when we were at school.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, you. You always go around with your little gang. McCall and those girls, you know? It’s not like you ever look at anyone else outside your little group.”

 _I look at you_ , Stiles wants to say. _I look at you so much that I memorized you schedule and your favorite lunch and I know that your favorite subject is English. I always look at you, Derek._ He stays silent, though. He’s in his boxer and his ruined shirt, sitting on a deserted beach with Derek Hale, his skin burned and red. He couldn’t be less attractive even if he tried.

“That’s not true,” he says in the end.

Derek shrugs. “There’s not much to know about me. I, uhm, I live with my sister, Laura. She’s almost twenty-five, and we’ve been living in our house alone since…since, you know, the fire. I thought you knew about that, because everybody knows and because your dad was there when it happened.”

A sudden homesickness hits Stiles when Derek mentions his father. What is he doing right now? Is he looking for Stiles? Is he still in Beacon Hills or is he in Trinidad? He must be worried sick.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Stiles says. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said we should get to know each other,” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I live with my dad since my mom passed away when I was younger. We’re doing fine, though. He worries about me all the time—” he pauses, fighting back the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “—but we love each other, you know? He’d kill me if he knew I was on that boat. God, we were so stupid.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Stiles lights the fire again when they’re done eating, using the screen of his phone. There’s not really much to do on the island now that they’ve built the hut, so they grab a branch each and write on the sand three big, fat letters: **SOS**. They walk the short path to the lagoon to freshen up a little, and Stiles watches as Derek takes off his shirt and swims under the waterfall.

Stiles walks into the lagoon, sinking down in the cool water. His eyebrow still hurts if he touches it, so he wets the wound, splashing water on his face. He watches how beautiful and comfortable Derek looks even in the shitty situation they’re in. He has a big, swirly tattoo between his shoulder blades that Stiles hadn’t noticed before, a weird symbol that has no meaning for Stiles. He wants to ask, but he’s not sure Derek would appreciate.

“Derek?”

Derek looks at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. The water is splashing over his shoulders, sending cool sprinkles of water on Stiles’ face.

“Why did you jump off the boat?”

Derek shrugs like what Stiles asked is the stupidest thing he has ever heard. “To save you. You were drowning.”

“I wasn’t drowning!”

Derek shrugs again. “I just wanted to help. Next time, I’ll leave you in the ocean.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I—never mind.”

Derek turns to face him. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing at Stiles’ wrist.

Stiles looks down at the silver bracelet that his mom gave him the day of his eight birthday. It has an intricate design, lines and circles bending together to form some sort of tribal figure, and the metal is twinkling in the bright light of the day. Just looking at the simple silver bend brings Stiles back to Beacon Hills and to his eighth birthday party. He spent the day with his parents and with Scott’s family, playing with his new presents and falling asleep on the couch with Scott right after the cake.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, sorry. It was my mom’s birthday present when I turned eight. It’s just a bracelet, but it reminds me of her every time I look at it.”

“I know what you mean. The triskele on my back…it’s the symbol of my family. Everyone had the same tattoo on a different part of their body. I use it to feel connected to them, you know?”

Stiles walks until he’s standing under the waterfall with Derek. Is Derek actually opening up to him? If he is, Stiles doesn’t want to miss his chance. So he talks. He tells Derek about Scott and Lydia and Allison. He tells Derek about Berkley and the early admission he scored. He tells Derek everything he can think about, and before he even realizes it the sun is not so high anymore and the sky is a shade darker than when they reached the lagoon. Derek doesn’t share as much as Stiles does, but his eyes never leave Stiles’ face as he talks, making him flustered and a little self-conscious.

“If I’d known all it took to talk to you was being stuck on a desert island, I would have done it before,” Stiles jokes when they’re walking back to their hut. The corners of Derek’s mouth lift up a little, and he pokes Stiles in the ribs when Stiles starts laughing. The fire is still burning when they reach their shelter, but Stiles adds a few leaves and some dry branches to make sure it doesn’t die when the night falls. Derek grabs some fruits and shares them between the two of them.

“You know what scares me the most about this island?” Stiles asks, staring at the ocean darkening before their eyes. Derek shrugs, swallowing down a piece of coconut. “The way it falls silent at night. Every noise that I hear during the day seems to just…disappear. It’s like we’re the last people in the world.”

“We’re not,” Derek assures. “They’re going to find us. We’re going to be back in school for prom.”

Stiles smirks. “You want to go to prom?”

“No, but I figured you wanted to.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Stiles shrugs, flopping down on the sand. “I’m going just because Scott will be sad if I’m not there. He really believes we need the whole high school experience, you know? I can’t say no to him.”

“Laura’s the same,” Derek says. “She wants me to go out and have friends, but she just can’t understand that I’m not like her. I’m not funny or cool or popular.”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty cool to me,” Stiles admits. He hopes Derek doesn’t see him blushing, but he’s a little surprised when he doesn’t answer at all. Stiles wants to laugh, because being on a desert island with a person who seems to talk only when it’s needed it’s the worst situation for him. He needs to talk—all the time—but Derek opens up to him only for a few minutes every day, shutting down when Stiles says something wrong. Stiles doesn’t know what to do.

When the sky is completely dark and the starts are shining over them, they make their way to the hut. It’s smaller than it looked from the outside now that they have to fold themselves into it, and Stiles ends up sleeping back-to-back with Derek. He dreams about wet skin under a waterfall and Derek’s pale eyes watching him from the lagoon.

 

*****

 

The Sheriff feels like crying. The girl sitting next to him in the suffocating, sticky weather of Trinidad could be his daughter, and yet she’s handling the news Harris is telling them better than anybody else in the room. She’s fierce and even prouder than what the Sheriff remembered from the night of the fire, and she’s his favorite person in the world right now.

The local police station is different from the one in Beacon Hills, and yet the officers look as clueless as his deputies when a case like this one happens. Most of the times, teenagers run away from their homes because they want a taste of independence, they want to know what it’s like to live alone, without the constant presence of their parents. But Stiles would never ran away—the Sheriff is ready to bet his life on that. If he wanted to run away, though, Stiles is not so stupid to do it on an island. He raised his son better than this. Laura Hale told him that she’s not so sure about his brother not wanting to run away, but she agrees with him. Derek is smart—smarter than what everybody else thinks—and he wouldn’t hide somewhere in Trinidad, when he doesn’t even know where to go or who to ask for help.

“We’re doing all we can,” the local sheriff tells them. “I don’t have a lot of officers who can take care of this case, but we’re going to find the boys. I sent some of my guys to check the part of the ocean where the party boat was supposed to be. According to Scott McCall and Lydia Martin Stiles was on the boat with them, but they don’t know where he was when the police boat approached. You confirm Stiles and Derek don’t make use of drugs? If they were high when—”

“Stiles would never do that.” The Sheriff stops the man in front of him before he can accuse his son any further. “He’s responsible—and I’m sure Derek is, too.”

“And yet they were on an _illegal_ boat party,” Harris interjects from his chair in the back of the room.

“What are you implying? They were your responsibility, you idiot! If something happened to Derek—” Laura stops, fighting back the tears. “I’m going to end you career. I mean it.”

“She’s threatening me!” Harris says.

“Yeah, and I’m with her on this. They were supposed to spend the night inside the hotel. What were you doing, uh?” the Sheriff says. “ I swear, Harris, I’m not going to let this one go. Not when Stiles is involved.”

Laura puts a hand on his arm. “John, I need to talk to you in private.”

John nods, walking out of the tiny room of the local police station and leaving Mr. Harris and the sheriff angry and confused. He follows Laura until they’re standing outside, sweating in the scorching heat of Trinidad. He has a constant lump in his throat and he thinks he’s losing the few hair he still has because he can’t stop pulling at it. He thinks of Stiles—scared somewhere in the middle of the ocean. Or at least he hopes Stiles is in the middle of the ocean. He can’t even think about the other option.

“John?” Laura shakes him out of his dark thoughts. “Hey, we’re going to find them, okay? I swear. I’m going to kill Derek when he’s back, but first I have to find him.”

The Sheriff nods. “Stiles is the most important person in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Yeah, well, you already know about my family. So, you also know I’m ready to search everywhere for my brother. I—I feel guilty because before he left I told him to have fun and make friends. He’s always so lonely. I’m afraid he went to that boat party because he wanted to do what I said.”

“Hey, stop thinking like this. We can’t lose our mind, okay? We have to find them.” John pauses to look at the girl who’s staring at him with big, pale eyes. Now that they’re alone—without Harris or the police—she looks younger and smaller, ready to burst into tears. “What did you want to tell me?”

Laura shakes her head and wipes away a few tears from her eyes. “We can’t wait for the police to look for them. They’re slow and they don’t have enough officers. I say we rent an helicopter. Before you say anything—I have the money. Insurance money from the fire. It won’t be a problem paying for the pilot.”

John feels relief flowing through his veins. “That’s a great idea. I can contribute…I don’t have a lot of money, but I can do my part.”

Laura nods. “Perfect. Let’s find a helicopter now.”

When the night falls, they’ve found a pilot and a decent enough helicopter to rent for a week. The pilot is a silent guy who doesn’t ask questions and just tells them his price and how the flights will work. It’s all so simple and easy that the Sheriff feels a tiny bubble of hope in his chest, right under the lump in his throat. He goes back to his hotel room after he says goodnight to Laura, flopping down on the perfectly made bed. His phone rings in his pocket, and John answers without checking the number—there’s only one person who can call him in a moment like this.

“Scott?” the Sheriff sighs.

Scott doesn’t answer immediately. John can hear the boy breathing heavily through the phone, trying to hold back his sobs. The Sheriff has known Scott for years—since Stiles came back home one day telling him and Claudia he had a new best friend—but he has never seen him so desperate and hopeless. Scott wanted to stay in Trinidad, but John had sent him home to Melissa with the promise of keeping him updated.

“Scott, we haven’t found him yet,” the Sheriff says. “Me and Laura hired a pilot, though. Tomorrow we’ll start looking without the help of the police. They’re too slow.”

“He has to be okay, Sheriff. He can’t just disappear in the middle of the ocean. We—we have things to do together. He promised me he would have helped me with my History test next month! I—I miss him so much and it’s all my fault! I made him go to that stupid—”

The Sheriff stops him before Scott can burst into tears. “You didn’t do anything. You know Stiles only does what he wants,” he says, pausing for a moment. “I have to ask you for the last time, Scott. Were you doing drugs on that boat? Were you drunk or high?”

“I swear we weren’t. Stiles wasn’t even dancing with us the last time I saw him, and the party had barely started. I should be there with you, Sheriff, I can’t just wait here in Beacon Hills.”

John shakes his head even though Scott can’t see him. “You have school and Melissa was worried sick when she heard about Stiles and Derek. Stay there, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Scott sighs. “Okay. Goodnight, Sheriff.”

“Goodnight, Scott.”

 

*****

 

“What are you doing?”

Derek is standing waist deep in the ocean, still like a predator about to catch his prey. He has a long, thin branch with a pointy end in his hand, and he’s staring down at his feet.

“Be quiet for a second,” Derek whispers.

Stiles shrugs and sits on the shore, playing with some shells he finds. His shoulders are burning from the sun, and he’s sure his face is blotchy and not attractive at all. Derek, on the other end, has a perfectly tanned skin, a shade darker than when they were in school. Stiles can see a paler strip of skin just under the small of Derek’s back, peaking out of his boxers. His shoulders are strong and his arms are muscular just like the rest of him. Stiles sighs, thinking that even now that Derek is literally forced to talk to Stiles because there’s no one else around, it’s not like Stiles’ chances are any higher.

“Damn it!” Derek shouts.

“What? What happened?”

Derek walks out of the ocean and drops down next to Stiles. “I’ve been trying to catch some fishes all morning. We can’t keep eating fruit every day. We need something more…nutritious, but I’m too slow.” He flops down on his back and closes his eyes, breathing in and out. “You lighted a fire with a cell phone. Why can’t I do something useful?”

“Hey, you built the  hut! You saved me, dude! I think we’re even.”

“It’s—it’s just so frustrating.”

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “This is not a competition, Derek. We’re helping each other out, okay? We’re in this together until someone finds us. I mean, we’ve been here for a week—”

“It’s a week already?”

“Yeah, I’m keeping count of the days on that rock over there,” Stiles says, pointing at a big rock near their shelter. “I don’t want to lose track of time.”

“That’s—that’s really smart.”

Stiles smirks. “Well, I’m smart.”

Derek lets out a brief laugh. “Don’t forget humble.”

“Yeah, and you’re a smartass.”

“And you…you’re red!”

“Red?”

Derek blushes. “I mean…your skin is red. From the sun. You should be careful.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh at that. “Look at you, all worried about me. No one is going to believe me when we’ll be back.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because you’re…you. Hot, broody people don’t look at scrawny, skinny guys.”

“Bullshit,” Derek says. “Wait—you think I’m hot?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Please, like you didn’t already know. You must have caught me looking at you a thousand times since we’re here! I mean, you go around all day almost naked, it’s not like I can do anything about it.”

Derek smiles and doesn’t answer—but Stiles is used to it by now. When the sun is high in the sky, the heat becomes unbearable. They seek relief in the shadow of their shelter, folding themselves like they do every night before they fall asleep. Stiles can see that Derek has a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his pale eyes are looking at Stiles’ face with rapt attention.

“I looked at you all the time in school,” Derek whispers.

The island is so quiet in that moment, it’s like all the animals are taking a break from the noise they make all day just to listen to Derek talking. Stiles looks at him, his face serious in the dim light of the hut. Derek brings a hand to Stiles’ cheek, stroking the soft skin there. Then, he rolls on his side and turns his back to Stiles, leaving him confused and with a million questions on the tip of his tongue.

Stiles wants nothing more than make Derek look at him again and ask him why he doesn’t open up with him, even when they’re in such an intimate situation. He wants to ask how Derek feels about him, if maybe he likes him back or Stiles is making everything up. He has the pointless urge to call Scott with his broken phone just because he needs to talk to someone. He’d give everything to be in Beacon Hills with his dad and his friends.

Stiles turns his back to Derek and waits for the sun to come down.

 

*

 

It turns out time passes really slow when you don’t have homework to do or your phone to play with or your best friends to talk to. By the end of week two, Stiles has spent half of his time swimming in the ocean or in the lagoon with Derek. Stiles thinks the lagoon is safer—he has an irrational fear of sharks and jellyfishes that even he can’t explain, because it’s not like he has ever seen one. Still, he’s terrified to swim in the deeper water of the ocean, and Derek always seems to indulge him by following Stiles to the lagoon whenever he wants to. Derek’s getting better at interacting with him, Stiles thinks. He smiles more and snarks back to Stiles’ sharp comments about _everything_. Sometimes Stiles catches Derek looking at him when he thinks Stiles is not looking, but they never talk about that day inside the hut, when Derek allowed himself to look vulnerable for the first time since they arrived on the island. At the beginning of their third week, Derek wakes Stiles up from his nap right after lunch with an annoying finger in his ribs.

“Come on, Stiles. I have something to show you.” Derek doesn’t wait for Stiles to sit up, but he walks away as soon as he makes sure that Stiles’ eyes are open.

“Mmmh, D’reeeeeeek,” Stiles whines. “I was having a beautiful dream.” _About you_ , he wants to say, but he decides to stay silent. He stands up and follows Derek outside the hut.  “What is it?”

Derek kneels beside three big rocks that form an irregular circle on the sand and fishes something that he hides behind his back. Derek’s smiling, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He looks so good like this that Stiles wants to kiss him right there.

“Remember our first night here?” Derek asks.

“You mean the night you didn’t sleep at all because you were scared?”

Derek snorts but chooses to ignore Stiles’ sarcasm. “Yes. You said something that night and I’ve been working on it since then. It took me a while because I wanted it to be a surprise, but…well, I made you a pillow.” When Derek shows Stiles what he’s hiding behind his back, Stiles is speechless. It’s their old, holed life jacket that they decided to keep anyway—Derek insisted, now that Stiles thinks about it—but Derek has filled it with the softest leaves and has tied up the whole thing with some other thick and large leaves. “I know it can’t possibly be as comfortable as your pillow back home, but I thought it could help you sleep at night. I know you wake up at least twice every night.”

Stiles is still gaping at Derek’s handmade pillow, unable to let words out of his mouth. He grabs his present and touches it with reverence, feeling the soft leaves under his fingertips. “You did this…for me?”

Derek nods. “I know I’m not the best person in the world to get stuck on a desert island with. I know you’re missing you dad and your friends, so I thought I could do something for you.”

“But…what about you? Don’t you miss your sister?”

Derek sits on the rocks behind him. “Of course I do, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to do something for you.”

Stiles sits next to him and puts a hand on Derek’s knee, stroking the tanned skin. “I don’t even know what to say. I love my new pillow,” Stiles says. He almost feels like crying as he watches Derek blush and duck his head, because he knows how much of an effort this is for Derek. He spent a lot of his time working on Stiles’ pillow just because he wanted to do something nice for him.  “Where did you even find the time? I never saw you working on it.”

“Sometimes I can’t sleep at night,” Derek admits. “There are all these thoughts in my head and my brain just can’t stop spinning. What if a ship passes and we’re asleep? What is Laura doing right now? Are they going to find us? It’s been already three weeks. Sometimes it’s—it’s overwhelming.”

“Hey, we’re going to be okay. We have each other until they find us, right?”

Stiles leans closer, still clutching the pillow in his hands. Derek is watching him now –not looking down anymore—and he has a half-smile on his lips. His skin is tanned and his body is firm when Stiles pushes the pillow on his side and puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Stiles admits. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t find the right person, you know? Scott keeps saying I’m too picky, but I like to define myself as a roma—”

Derek leans forward and presses their lips together, stopping Stiles mid-sentence. He brings a hand to Stiles’ cheek, stroking it with his thumb, and then he leans back, a half-smile on his lips. It’s not even a kiss, just a brush of lips, but Stiles feels his body tingling everywhere and his heart dancing in his chest. Okay, maybe Lydia was right. He _is_ in love with Derek Hale.

“Do you always kiss like that?” Stiles asks. He can’t keep a smile off his face, and Derek is the same. “I mean, it was a great first kiss, but I feel like a _real_ kiss should have more tongue and a lot more touching. I’m not an expert, but that’s what everyone else says.”

Derek stands up from the rocks and starts to walk towards the woods, smirking at him over his shoulder. “Get away from the sun, Stiles.”

They run the short path to the lagoon. Derek is ahead of him, his strong body making its way through the thick trees of the forest. He disappears for a moment behind a large branch before Stiles spots him again. Derek stops on the edge of the huge rock over the waterfall, stretching an arm to stop Stiles from falling down. They both stare at the lagoon under their feet, and the same idea crosses through their minds at the same time.

“Don’t drown,” Derek says.

He grabs Stiles’ hand and takes the last step that separates them from the jump. Stiles yells—loud and wild—and jumps when Derek pulls at his hand. There’s a void in Stiles’ stomach as he waits to hit the water, but it’s nothing like the time he fell from the party boat. This time everything is exciting and exhilarating: Derek’s hand in his, the wind that blows against his bare skin, his hair that flies in every direction. The cool water hits them, pushing them underwater, but Derek never leaves Stiles’  hand. They resurface and swim to the shallower water, laughing as Derek pulls Stiles closer to him.

“You want a real kiss?” Derek asks, tightening his hold around Stiles’ waist. Stiles nods, already anticipating the contact with Derek’s lips, but the other boy doesn’t seem to be in a rush as he is. “Are you sure? Here? With me? This is how you wanted your first kiss to be?”

“I wanted it to be with someone I liked,” Stiles says. “I like you. I don’t see the problem.”

“I was just checking,” Derek smirks. “I like you too, by the way.”

Stiles has his first real kiss standing in the shallow water of a lagoon on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean, with birds singing around, the skin of his shoulders burned and almost naked. Most importantly, he has his first kiss with Derek Hale, the guy Stiles has been drooling after for _years_. It almost feels surreal, because the first thing he thinks about when Derek breaks the kiss for air is that he wants to tell everything to Scott and Lydia, but they are safe in Beacon Hills and Stiles will have to wait. Derek pecks him for the last time when he notices Stiles is caught up in his dark thoughts, making him snap back to reality.

“I looked at you all the time in school,” Derek says, echoing the same words he said that night inside their hut. “At first, I was jealous. You seemed always so happy, always smiling and laughing with your friends…I wanted to be that way, too.” He pauses, sitting in the shallow water of the lagoon and pulling Stiles down with him. “Then, by the beginning of our sophomore year, I just wanted you to notice me, but I knew it was impossible. I have no friends, I don’t talk in class, I don’t practice any sport. I’m the weird kid who lives with his sister.”

Stiles snorts and splashes him. “Enough with the pity party. I was the one drooling after you for years. It took me a trip to Trinidad and a desert island to catch your attention!” They both know Stiles is joking, but in some part of his brain he can’t help but think that, if it wasn’t for the island, he and Derek would have never talked. They haven’t been lucky until now, but the desert island has helped them forget about their social status in school and what everyone else thinks.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you out, but I couldn’t find the courage,” Derek admits, looking down at the water crashing against their legs. “If—if we make it out of this island, will you go out with me?” He says the last words in  rush, without breathing. He doesn’t look at Stiles, but he keeps staring at their legs that are now tangled together underwater. Stiles can see the blush on Derek’s cheeks, but he stays silent.

“Not if,” Stiles says, dropping a light kiss on Derek’s cheek. “ _When_. We’re going to be back in Beacon Hills. I told you, my dad won’t leave me here and the same goes for your sister. They’re looking for us, I know it.”

Derek shakes his head. “I had a fight with my sister just before leaving for Trinidad. She’s always telling me how I should make new friends and I just couldn’t bare it anymore. I was not the best person to live with, Stiles. Maybe it would have been better if anybody else survived instead of me. Laura would have been happier and I—”

“Don’t you dare say it, Derek,” Stiles hisses, raising on his feet. “We’re stuck here, but you’re alive and your sister is looking for you. She won’t leave you here.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“If she’s anything like you, she’ll be looking in every corner of this fucking ocean.”

Derek lets out a brief laugh. “Maybe.”

They walk back to the hut. The sun is already low in the sky when they emerge from the forest and step on the soft sand of the beach. Stiles can’t stay still, hyped and excited for the unexpected turn his relationship with Derek has taken. He swallows down a coconut and a banana and then he fuels the fire with a few dry palm leaves and some thin branches. Derek is already laying on his back inside the hut, staring up at the sky through their precarious roof, his eyes big and bright. He smiles when he sees Stiles lingering on the entrance of the hut, and he opens his arms in acceptance.

“Come here, Stiles.”

Stiles steps inside. The hut seems ever smaller that day, hot and sticky. It keeps away the scorching heat of the island and, even if insects are everywhere, both Stiles and Derek know that the hut is their safe place. Stiles kneels and folds himself beside Derek, putting his head on Derek’s chest. He’s about to close his eyes when a sudden thought shoots through his mind.

“Hey! I forgot something outside.”

He runs out of the hut and comes back after a few minutes. He’s brandishing the pillow Derek made for him, putting it down beside Derek’s head. The smile on Derek’s lips is blinding. “How does it feel?” Derek asks.

Stiles tries the pillow, dropping his head on the soft leaves inside the life jacket. “Oh, God. Derek, it’s so soft!” he says. “We can share, I don’t mind.”

“Stiles, it’s a gift.”

“I know, and I want to share it with you. You shouldn’t sleep on the sand.”

Derek doesn’t find anything to argue with that. He shuffles closer to Stiles and puts his head on the pillow, facing the other boy. They’re so close, laying down tangled together, and for a second –a brief, exhilarating moment—Stiles forgets about everything. He pushes away his thoughts about his Dad and his friends, about the island and the party boat. He can only think about Derek being so close to him, Derek’s pale eyes staring at him without hesitation.

Stiles gives him a goodnight kiss just before he closes his eyes. Derek kisses him back, pulling Stiles even closer and putting a big, warm hand on the small of his back. He drops a last peck on Stiles’ forehead before wishing him goodnight. Stiles thinks he could get used to falling asleep with a huge grin on his face.

 

*****

 

Laura has counted, and the Sheriff receives from three to nine calls a day. Scott, Scott’s mum and Lydia call everyday—to check on him and to know if John has news about Stiles. The other calls are from the deputies who refuse to leave their boss alone in a moment like this. John always tells them the truth—they’re looking everyday with the helicopter they rented, but they haven’t made progress, yet—sometimes even reassuring Scott or Lydia about their best friend.

Nobody calls Laura.

She’s sure her coworkers don’t even know Derek’s her brother, and her neighbors were never interested in their little family. She doesn’t even want to think about how she doesn’t have a family to check on her, because she’s doesn’t want to cry in front of the Sheriff again.

Laura knows she has to be strong, but some days she can’t help but think about going back to Beacon Hills. Then, she thinks about coming back to their huge, empty house and about Derek being alone somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and she hates herself a little for thinking that way. In those moments, when she’s at her lowest point and she feels like dropping on the floor and crying, John always smiles at her and puts a hand on her shoulder. For the first time in years, she can enjoy the comfort of a paternal figure, and all of a sudden she has a lump in her throat for a completely different reason.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Derek stands in the salty water, still and motionless like a predator. Or, at least, he hopes so. He’s been trying for weeks to catch one of the meaty fishes that swim in the ocean, mostly because he can’t stand eating fruit anymore, but also because they’re getting skinnier and skinnier every day that passes—Derek can now count Stiles’ ribs when the boy lays down next to him. He tightens his hold on the long, thin branch in his hand and fixes his eyes on the fishes swimming around his legs, oblivious. In those seconds before he attacks, Derek doesn’t think about anything but the taste of cooked fish in his mouth, the delicious smell of the tender meat that breaks under his teeth. He sinks the branch into the shallow water and aims for the closest fish swimming between his feet. An animalistic yell erupts from Derek’s mouth when the pointy end of the branch hits the fish in the middle of its sinuous body, and he lifts his pray up in the air, brandishing it like a sword in front of him.

Stiles comes running out from their hut. “Derek? Oh my god, are you okay? Why are you—wait, is that a _fish_?”

Derek walks out of the water and hands the branch and the fish to Stiles. “I did it, Stiles. Fucking finally.”

Stiles stares back and forth from the dead fish to Derek, then from Derek to the fish again. He gapes, holding the branch with trembling hands. Then, he finally understands what is going on. He lifts the branch in the air –just like Derek had done—and throws himself at the other boy, hugging and kissing him in a tight embrace that smells of salty water, dead fish and sweat.

“You did it! I know you’ve been trying since we’ve been here, but I thought…I just couldn’t eat another banana anymore,” Stiles says, releasing Derek from the embrace. “I can’t wait to eat it, I’m already drooling. I’m going to cook it now, I’m going to—”

Stiles turns and walks back to the hut, still talking to himself about all the ways he’s going to cook the fish. Derek smiles, watching Stiles’ tanned body move on the soft sand, and lets himself drop on the beach to rest for a while. They’ve been eating fruit since their first day on the island, and Derek was starting to get sick of it. He tried not to complain about it, but he knew that both him and Stiles needed something more than simple fruit.

The smell of the fish fills the air as Stiles cooks it, singing softly to himself. Derek watches him—watches the way Stiles already seems happier and healthier—and his heart flutters in his chest. Derek had had a crush on Stiles since their freshman year, when Stiles had smiled at him in the hallways, but he would have never thought that their first real conversation would have been on a desert island. Then again, he would have never thought that their first kiss would have been on a desert island, either. The first of many, of course, because Stiles was always touching Derek, playing with him, trying to cheer him up, and Derek just couldn’t resist when Stiles smiled at him and guided him into their hut. The kisses were sloppy, heated, a panting mess that most of the times ended with Derek’s hands under Stiles’ shirt or with Stiles’ long fingers playing with the elastic of Derek’s holed, consumed boxers. They hadn’t moved further than that, though. Stiles wasn’t ready—Derek could see the fear and the indecision clear in his eyes every time he dared move his hands under Stiles’ boxers—but he hadn’t said a word to Derek, yet.

Stiles calls him from the fire. He has put the fish on a large rock, cooked and mouth-watering. Derek has always been a meat kind of guy, but the long fish in front of him looks like the most delicious thing in the world right now.

“I never thought about the utility of forks and knives,” Stiles says, cutting their meal in two irregular halves with the sharp rock they often use as a knife. “There’s no way we can remove the scales or the fishbone, we’ll have to adapt.” He looks at Derek, a sly smile on his face. “God, I can’t wait. Are you ready?”

Derek nods, grabbing the smaller half of the fish. Stiles was already skinny when they still were in Beacon Hills, and Derek has started to worry about him since their first day on the island. He needs to eat well, and this fish can be a first step.

“I’m ready,” he says.

Even if they’re starving, the fish is the most difficult thing Derek has ever eaten. The fishbone and all the other little bones keep getting in the way, so Derek and Stiles have to stop every few seconds to spit them on the sand. There are also all the scales, that Derek tries to avoid. When he looks up, Stiles has his face buried in his half of the fish, soft moans leaving his mouth as he eats. He munches and swallows until there’s nothing to eat anymore, throwing the eviscerated fish in the fire.

“That was the most tasty fish in the entire world…you know that, right?” Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head and throws his half of the fish in the fire. “Just a regular fish. You were just starving for anything else than fruit.”

Stiles nods, moving closer to Derek. “Yeah, but it was still amazing. I feel like a normal person again.” He smiles at Derek, putting a hand on his knee. “Come here, big guy. You deserve a reward.”

Stiles kisses him, and Derek pushes away his worries for a while. Stiles’ lips are soft and gentle, his hands calming on Derek’s legs. The fire is crackling beside them, the smell of the ocean fills their noses as they fight with their mouths, and Derek thinks this may be one of the nicest moments of his entire life—despite everything they’re living right now. He’s still pumped for the prey he caught earlier and he wants nothing more than carry Stiles inside their hut and make him his. Derek slips his hand under Stiles’ shirt, stroking the still burned skin of his back. He brings Stiles closer to him, rolling on the sand and pushing Stiles on top of him. Stiles looks down at him, his eyes big and warm.

“Hey,” Stiles says. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how nice this is,” Derek admits, looking away from Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t let Derek run away from his feelings. He drops his head down on Derek’s shoulder and stretches on top of him, putting a hand over Derek’s heart. “Do you ever feel guilty?” Stiles whispers. “I mean, I’m sure my dad is worried sick about me…but I’m here, kissing you and swimming in the ocean every day. I feel like we should be crying and panicking every second.”

Derek nods against Stiles’ head. “You’re right, but we can’t do anything about it. Stiles, it’s been almost a month. If they haven’t already found us, I think we should enjoy what we have here, don’t you think?”

Stiles lifts his head and looks at him. “What are you saying, Derek? They’re going to find us, I’m sure.”

Derek sighs. “Never mind. You shouldn’t feel guilty, that’s all. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Stiles yawns in Derek’s arms. “Do you think we would have ever talked in school? Eventually?”

Derek has been thinking about the same thing since their first kiss, and his heart breaks every time he comes up with an answer. No, Derek thinks, Derek would have never talked to Stiles and Stiles would have never talked to Derek. Derek was too shy, too caught up in his own personal mess to think that Stiles was actually interested in him, and Stiles would have probably kept seeing Derek as a weirdo until graduation. He doesn’t want to tell Stiles all this, though.

“Maybe,” Derek says. “Who knows?”

Stiles yawns again and falls asleep before he can answer.

 

*

 

Stiles is beautiful and reckless, smart and selfless, funny and deep. He kisses Derek slow and sweet every morning, waking him up in the best possible way, and then spends all day picking up branches, rocks and fruit to bring inside the hut. He waits patiently as Derek gets better at catching the fishes in the ocean and helps him fix the hut when the leaves or the branches give in a little. He runs on the sand when a monkey chases him, he stumbles and falls but he gets up on his feet again, laughing and giving the monkey a banana. He lights the fire with sharps rocks and cuts his hands countless times, until his palms are covered in little, white scars. He sharpens the ends of the branches Derek uses as weapons when he fishes, and he ends up with a bloody thumb.

Derek looks at him and tries to keep him safe, doing the best he can on that fucking island. Derek tries, but he also knows that Stiles is very breakable and weak in those conditions. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if Stiles got hurt without a hospital around.

 

*

 

On their thirtieth day on the island Derek catches three fat fishes that Stiles manages to cook without burning them too much. They’ve both gotten better at avoiding the scales and the bones, so the fishes are now even tastier than their first. They decided to take a day off from the work they usually do every day and they spend the entire morning kissing lazily inside the hut, touching each other under their shirts. For the first time, Stiles lets Derek slip his hand inside his boxers and grab a handful of Stiles’ ass to squeeze playfully. Stiles laughs and starts moving against Derek’s erection, moaning softly against Derek’s shoulder. Derek can feel that they’re both hard, rutting against each other in the dim light of the hut, but he also feels that there’s something wrong with Stiles.

Derek stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Hey, Stiles. Why are you crying?”

“Not crying,” Stiles says, his voice wavering.

“Stiles, stop,” Derek says, stilling him by putting his hands on Stiles’ hips. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I—I just wanted you to have a good time, like, with me. In an intimate situation,” Stiles whispers. “I really want to…to have sex with you, but…but we don’t even have a real bed, Derek! We’re on a desert island on our own! What if something goes wrong? What if you don’t like it and I’ll have to move to the opposite side of the island not to die of shame? What if—”

“Stiles.”

“—I just wanted to start with something simple, you know? But I don’t even know what I’m doing, I—this is my first time, okay? I know you can probably tell, but I—”

Derek interrupts him with a kiss. He pushes their mouths together and licks away Stiles’ tears, letting the other boy regain his breath. Derek rolls them over and covers Stiles with his body, framing Stiles’ face between his hands.

“Stop freaking out,” Derek says. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You have all the reasons in this world to be scared about this, okay? People are scared about their first time even in a normal situation, Stiles. We’re not in a normal situation.”

Stiles cracks a smile, wiping away his tears. “Definitely not,” he says. “Sorry, I just—I just needed to let out some of my stress. The tears had nothing to do with you. God, you’re so fucking perfect I can’t believe you’re still talking to me.”

“Well, it’s not like I have any other option.”

“Jerk,” Stiles laughs. He twines his hands around Derek’s neck and pecks him on the lips. “Really, though. I think I need some time to get used to the idea of having sex with you. Is that okay?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Of course it’s okay. You don’t even have to ask.”

Stiles brings Derek closer. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do something else. You—you could show me how…”

Derek silences Stiles by leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, reaching the elastic of his boxers and pushing them down to Stiles’ knees. Stiles’ moans and pleas get mixed with the natural sounds of the island: the crash of the waves, the birds singing on the trees, the animals talking to each other in the woods. Stiles pulls at Derek’s hair, tightening his legs around Derek’s hips.

Later, when they’re lying inside the hut in each other arms, Derek starts to understand what Stiles meant when he said he felt guilty. Derek knows that Laura is looking for him right now—she has probably hired all the police force in Trinidad to look for a broody teenager—and he also knows he should be hoping to get rescued as soon as possible. When Derek tilts his head, though, the boy he’s been in love for years is sleeping next to him, mumbling incomprehensible words. Stiles’ lips are swollen and the skin between his thighs is red from Derek’s stubble. Derek doesn’t think he has ever been happier in his life.

When Stiles wakes up they walk to the lagoon and stand under the waterfall until the sky turns dark and the first stars twinkle over them. Stiles kisses him, clutching Derek’s shoulder like he’s afraid Derek is going to disappear at any moment. He leaves open mouthed kisses on Derek’s skin and whispers soft words to him until Derek’ head is spinning. They walk back to the hut and eat the remaining fruits they still have inside their shelter. Derek almost chokes when he catches Stiles staring at him—his cheeks pink and his eyes wide—while Derek is eating a banana.

“Not fair,” Stiles says. “You can’t ever eat a banana in front of me. Never again. Not after what you did this morning.”

Derek laughs until he cries, falling on his back on the sand. Stiles is on top of him in a matter of seconds, kissing Derek to make him stop laughing. They roll on the sand until Derek starts to fall asleep and Stiles is forced to drag him inside the hut.

Derek falls asleep with Stiles’ fingers carding gently through his hair.

 

*****

Eugene, their pilot, hasn’t said more than ten words to the Sheriff or Laura during the month they spent flying high in the sky. Eugene is in his forties and has a stern face but gentle eyes. Sometimes the Sheriff catches him looking at Laura with something he thinks is compassion, but he never says anything more than _yes_ , _no_ or _we’re meeting at nine_. For all those reasons, John thinks it’s a bad sign when Eugene shakes his head and tells them they can’t go out that day because of the weather. Big, dark clouds had filled the sky during the night, and now the rain is pouring outside. The wind is strong and cold, so Eugene tells them he isn’t able to fly in those conditions. Laura nods and thanks him anyway, shooting John a worried look. They make their way back to the hotel, but neither of them is ready to be in their respective rooms on their own, so they sit on one of the soft couches in the hall, staring at the rain that is falling outside.

“I hope they’re safe,” Laura sighs. She’s getting thinner every day that passes, she barely eats a yogurt when they have breakfast together and then nothing else for the rest of the day. She bites her nails constantly, she has dark circles under her eyes and her hair has been tied up in a ponytail for a week. The Sheriff feels the permanent lump in his throat get even bigger, because he doesn’t have enough will to tell Laura what he needs to.

The girl next to him sighs again and puts a hand on John’s knee. “You should go home, Sheriff.”

John splutters. “What? I—how did you know?”

Laura snorts, looking again like the fierce girl she was no longer than a month ago. “You’re risking your job, John, and you gave Eugene all your savings. How are you going to _eat_ if you don’t get back to work? You already missed an entire month.”

“I—I can’t go back to Beacon Hills. Stiles…he needs me here.”

“You know that’s not true,” Laura says. “He’s not going to appear out of nowhere any of these days. If we want to find Stiles and Derek we have to keep looking and stay strong…but you have to go back home. Stay with Scott and Melissa if you don’t want to be in your house, but you need to go back to your job.”

“I don’t understand. What are you saying? What about you?”

“I’m staying here.” Laura’s voice is firm and passionate, and in that moment the Sheriff knows she’s been thinking about this for days, even before he started to worry about his job. He hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to leave Laura alone in Trinidad, but he doesn’t have many possibilities. He can’t lose his job. What if Stiles comes back and they don’t have a home anymore? What if his son can’t go to college, or worse—to the hospital?

“I don’t want to leave you here, Laura,” John says. “What about your job?”

Laura shrugs. “I don’t really need to work, I have plenty of money. John, I swear, I’ll call you everyday to keep you updated. I’ll fly everyday with Eugene, I’ll search every corner of this fucking island. I’m going to find my brother and your son.”

When she talks like that, John is reminded of Talia Hale, the scary lady who lived with her big family in the middle of the woods and who never asked for the police’s help. They have the same fiery eyes, their mouths thin out in the same way and their words are persuasive. For the first time since they arrived in Trinidad, John allows himself to cry. He knows he shouldn’t be doing it in front of Laura, in an hotel’s hall, in the middle of a tropical storm, but he can’t help himself. He’s leaving his son. He’s leaving Stiles. Laura puts a hand on his shoulder and waits until he calms down, whispering soft words to comfort him through his panic attack.

The next day, the Sheriff packs the few things he brought from Beacon Hills into his tiny luggage and hugs Laura goodbye just before she leaves with Eugene. The girl has watery eyes, trying not cry in front of him, but her words are clear when she speaks.

“I’m going to find them.”

“Call me every day, okay?” John says.

“I will.”

 

*****

Derek and Stiles stare at their destroyed hut as the sun rises and the sky clears of all the grey clouds. The roof has flown somewhere deep inside the forest, the walls are all askew and not sticking together anymore. Stiles managed to save the flare gun, his pillow and their clothes—even if they’re wet—but all their supplies are gone.

“What are we going to do now?” Stiles’ voice is high-pitched and almost hysterical, his hands are flying all over the place and his eyes are huge like two full moons. He can’t stop staring at their broken hut, their only safe place on the island. Derek doesn’t want Stiles to panic even more, so he tries to keep his voice calm and reassuring.

“We have to rebuild it,” he says. “We already did it once, we can do it again. You’re going to help me and we’ll have a new hut by the end of the day.”

Stiles looks at him like he’s crazy. “All the branches and leaves are wet!”

“We’re going to dry them. Light the fire, Stiles.”

Stiles huffs. “Fine, but it’s not going to work.”

It works. They dry the branches, trying not to burn them, and they tie them together with thick leaves, just like they did the first time. Rebuilding the roof is hard, but Stiles helps Derek even if he keeps complaining and huffing through their work. The second version of their hut is even worse than their first, but it protects them from the chill of the night, and that’s enough for Derek. He puts the rocket launcher and the clothes in a corner and then places Stiles’ pillow against one of the wooden walls. When he walks out of the hut, he finds Stiles sitting on the sand, hugging his knees.

Derek sits next to him just as the sun is setting. “You can go inside, if you want. Your pillow is in there.”

“I’m not tired.”

Derek shrugs. “What is it, then?”

Stiles shoots him a glare. “Yesterday was the scariest night of my life, Derek. I thought we would have died! The hut was gone, I couldn’t see a thing and I kept hearing noises from the forest. I never felt more helpless.”

Derek nods. With the hut gone, they had been forced to find some sort of shelter under a big palm tree on the edge of the woods, but their clothes had been drenched in a matter of seconds. The scariest thing of all—Derek thought—were the thunders that seemed to shake and move the island. He and Stiles had waited all night, sitting close together, until the storm had calmed down a little.

“You did great,” Derek says. He takes Stiles’ hand and blows a kiss on the open palm. “Do you feel like sleeping now?”

The corners of Stiles’ lips lift up just a little. “Yeah, I think so. Lead the way, big guy?”

 

*

 

The scream makes Derek’s blood run cold in his veins.

When he sits up inside the hut and sees that Stiles is not beside him, sleeping like he should be doing, a lump in his throat makes it hard to breathe. “Stiles?” he whispers, hoping that Stiles is just lighting the fire outside the hut and the scream was just a bad dream.

“Stiles?” This time Derek is yelling. Stiles is not on the beach and Derek can’t see him anywhere. “Stiles, where are you?”The sun is raising slowly over the ocean, and the dim light doesn’t help Derek seeing if Stiles is anywhere near.

_Please, please, don’t let anything happen to Stiles, please, please._

Derek keeps praying silently as he runs inside the forest, yelling Stiles’ name again. The birds are chirping like nothing happened and the monkeys are shouting so loud on the trees that Derek wants to tell them to stop, he has to find Stiles, he can’t hear a thing if they keep—

“Derek?” The voice is feeble, almost a whisper, but it’s Stiles’ without a doubt. “Derek, I’m here.”

Derek moves a bush with his hand and finally finds Stiles. He’s laying down on the ground, breathing heavily, one hand touching his leg and the other over his heart. Derek looks down, follows Stiles’ long finger that is pointing down, and sees that Stiles’ left foot is bleeding. There’s a long, deep gash on his sole that is still spilling fresh blood.

“There was a fucking rock hidden under a leave,” Stiles whines.

“We need to clean the wound _now_ ,” Derek says, looking at the dirt already mixed with blood. He lifts Stiles up and carries him to the lagoon as fast as he can, careful not to hurt Stiles on his way. “Why do you keep going around without your shoes? I told you a thousand times—”

“And I told _you_ that my shoes are too worn-out,” Stiles retorts. “So please, before you start lecturing me, bring me to the lagoon.”

“I told you you could wear my shoes,” Derek mutters.

“They’re too _big_ for me.”

Derek easies Stiles down on a big, flat rock on the edge of the lagoon. “Does it look as bad as it feels?” Stiles asks, lowering his foot into the water. He hisses when the wound makes contact with the clear water, muttering curses under his breath.

“No,” Derek lies. He frowns down at wound, deep and still bloody. When the water around them turns red, he checks that the wound is not dirty anymore and then helps Stiles lift his foot up on the rock again. A million questions are spinning around in Derek’s mind in that moment. How are they going to cover the wound? It’s not like they have band-aids or something. Is it going to get infected? Is Derek supposed to know medicinal herbs to help Stiles? Is Stiles able to walk on his own or run if he needs to?

“Stop freaking out,” Stiles says, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek scowls. “You’re still bleeding and we’re alone on a desert island. Did you think going around without shoes would be fun? I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s no hospital on this fucking place!”

“It’s just a—”

“Don’t even say it,” Derek interrupts him. “What if it gets infected? What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait for me to die and then go on with your life.”

Derek stares at Stiles, gaping like a fish. “You’re not funny.”

“I just don’t get why you’re getting so angry at me! Look, it’s not my fault, okay?”

“I’m mad because you’re never careful! You always go around like nothing can ever happen to you, but that’s not true! You weren’t careful today and you weren’t careful the night of the boat party! You were the only person to fell off the boat, for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, so _that_ is what this is about,” Stiles snaps. “So it’s my fault we’re stuck here. Is this what you’re saying? I fell off the boat so it’s my fault. Well, you’re right, I fell, but you’re forgetting a little particular. Nobody asked you to save _me_.” He takes a deep breath and goes on before Derek can even open his mouth. “Why were you even on that boat? You never gave any of us the time of the day and suddenly you want to go to a party?”

“I told you why I was on the boat.”

“Yeah, your sister told you to socialize. But, guess what, your sister wasn’t there! You could have stayed in your room for a week and she would have never known!”

They stare at each other for a long time. Stiles keeps touching his leg when the pain is too strong, and Derek keeps his arms crossed on his chest.

“It’s good to know that you think it’s my fault we’re stuck here. You could have said it before, Derek. Why wait all this time? I’m just a stupid guy with a crush on you. What, were you scared to hurt my feelings?”

“You’re not stupid,” Derek says.

“Well, _I_ fell off the boat. You saved me.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Stiles huffs. “Of course you don’t.”

“Can you walk to the beach?”

“I said I’m fine.” Stiles tries to stand up, but his knee gives out as soon as his foot makes contact with the ground. He falls down on the big rock again, wincing in pain. “I can do it, just let me—”

Derek lifts Stiles up, carrying him over his shoulder. Stiles yells – “Let me go, you idiot!”—and fights with his hands against Derek’s back, but Derek only easies him down when they’re back to the hut. Stiles falls on the mess of leaves they call a bed, his eyes closed and his forehead sweaty.

“I could have done it on my own.”

“Sure,” Derek says. The wound looks clean now, but it still isn’t covered and there’s sand everywhere around them. Derek doesn’t know if sand can infect a wound, and he doesn’t want to risk it, but there’s nothing he can do in this situation. He grabs Stiles’ pillow and puts it under his wounded foot. “Don’t move. Keep your feet out of the sand.”

“I’m not stupid.”

Derek nods and leaves the hut to Stiles, grabbing his pointy branch to catch some fishes.

 

*

 

The wound is turning a strange violet color every time Derek looks a little closer. They’ve tried everything—the clear water of the lagoon, the salty water of the ocean, even some leaves Stiles was sure would have make the wound go away—but nothing worked. Stiles’ foot still hurts and the gash still bleeds every other day.

“I think it’s healing,” Stiles says, smiling faintly at Derek. They haven’t really talked since the day of the accident, but Derek can see that Stiles is trying to rekindle their relationship. Maybe he knows he has been reckless, maybe he just wants company while he’s stuck inside the hut, but Derek still remembers the paralyzing fear he felt when he heard Stiles scream from the forest, and he knows he isn’t ready to forgive him, yet.

Derek frowns down at him. “It’s still bleeding. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

“Hey, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m sure I’ll be able to walk by the end of the week.”

“Are you still keeping count?” Derek asks. He has lost track of time after two weeks on the island, but Stiles has always been there to remind him. “What week is this?”

“We’re almost at the end of our ninth week,” Stiles says. “God, more than two months on the island.” He falls silent, looking down at his intertwined hands on his chest. The air in the hut gets heavy, so Derek walks out and runs to the ocean. He stops when the water hits his feet and he gets rid of his clothes. He throws his holed shirt on the sand, then the jeans Stiles cut on their first week, then his underwear. He lets the fading sun kiss his skin once before he dips down in the ocean. Underwater, he feels free and happy. He’s too busy swimming and coming up for air to worry about anything else. He doesn’t think about Laura, or Stiles, or how much time has passed since Day One. It’s an intoxicating feeling, and Derek has to fight an hard battle with himself to get out of the water when it starts to get dark and go back to Stiles. The other boy is sleeping when Derek walks inside the hut, looking even more beautiful than the first time Derek saw him at school. He’s breathing softly and his face isn’t crunched up in pain for the first time in days.

Derek lays down next to Stiles, watching him breathe in and out. In and out.

 In.

 And out.

 _He’s okay_ , Derek thinks. _There’s nothing to worry about._

*****

 

Eugene looks at her from his side of the helicopter. He shakes his head, telling Laura he doesn’t see anything looking like two teenage boys in the endless blue ocean. Laura nods but doesn’t tell him to go back, simply because she can’t. She can’t leave her baby brother alone in the middle of nothing. She can’t call the Sheriff that night and tell him they’re not making any progress. She can’t hear Scott and Allison shouting questions next to the Sheriff.

She looks away from Eugene and stares at the ocean. She wonders if Derek is safe. She wonders where he is. Is he with Stiles? They’re still not sure about that.

Derek can’t leave her alone. He’s her brother, they’re supposed to grow up together. Even after all that happened to them, they were still each other’s rocks. Laura wants nothing more that hug him and hold him tight, tell him she’s so sorry for all the things she said to him. Derek doesn’t need more friends if he doesn’t want to.

Eugene flies to a part of the ocean they haven’t explored, yet. It still looks the same to Laura, but the pilot seems confident enough, so she lets him do his thing. Every now and then a microscopic island peeks from the water. They’re big enough not to be defined rocks, but they’re still so small that there’s no way two people could live there.

That night, John calls her. Laura keeps him updated every day, but there’s really nothing to tell. They stop talking about Derek and Stiles after the first two minutes, because it hurts too much. They talk about Beacon Hills and the police station, John tells her a lot of people are asking about her—where she is, if she’s okay, when she’s going to be back. Laura bites back the tears welling in her eyes and tries to be positive, tries to cheer the Sheriff up. Melissa told her he has lost a lot of weight since he came back, and that they’re worried about his heart. Everyone tries to keep him busy, but the Sheriff can only think of Stiles. Laura sighs when she hangs up. Maybe John is the only person in the world who can get her right now.

She closes her eyes and hopes.

 

*****

Stiles is feverish. He keeps talking nonsense and his skin is burning.

“Stiles? Stiles, stay with me,” Derek whispers. He wets Stiles’ forehead, but the other boy keeps babbling in his sleep. Derek feels the constant lump in his throat become even bigger, and tears start to fall down his cheeks. “Stiles, please. I don’t know what do to. There’s nothing I can do. Please, wake up.”

Stiles slowly opens his eyes, staring at Derek without really seeing him. His lips are dry, so Derek gives him water. Stiles smiles, his mind clearing a little, and grabs Derek’s hand, twining their fingers together.

“Lay down with me,” Stiles says.

Derek obliges, lying down next to Stiles and bringing their hands to his mouth. He drops a kiss on Stiles’ knuckles and he smiles when Stiles huffs out a laugh.

“We never had sex,” Stiles whispers.

Derek can’t help but laugh. “Really? This is the only thing you can think about right now?”

“I don’t want to die virgin.”

“You’re not going to die,” Derek says, as firm as he can. “You can’t die now. You’re going to get better, okay?”

“I just really wanted to have sex with you,” Stiles says, closing his eyes again. “Like, _really_ wanted to. But I was so scared something bad was going to happen because something bad always happens when you’re Stiles Stilinski. I mean, I’m going to die because of a fucking _rock_.”

“You’re not going to die!” Derek says. He doesn’t yell just because Stiles is so weak. “Stiles, listen to me.” Derek stops for a moment, making sure he has Stiles’ attention. When the other boy looks back at him, he forces himself to start talking again. “I—I love you, okay? I didn’t know how to tell you…I didn’t want to tell you on the island. I didn’t want you to think I was in love with you just because we were the only two people here.”

“You said it anyway,” Stiles says, smiling.

“Yeah, couldn’t help it,” Derek admits. “So, don’t die. You can’t die, because I love you.”

“God, a love confession by Derek Hale and I can’t even open my eyes.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t wear shoes. Don’t be mad at me.”

“I was never mad at you. I was fucking worried about you.”

Stiles looks at him with a strange glint in his eyes. “Really?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Of course. I’ve been worrying about you since the first day here,” he says, shuffling a little closer to the other boy. Stiles is falling asleep again, so Derek tries to keep him awake. “Once you asked me why I was on the party boat, remember? Do you still want to know why?”

Stiles nods, but doesn’t answer. His eyes stay closed and his hands tightens around Derek’s.

“So, I told you my sister Laura was driving me crazy with the whole _you should make new friends_ thing. She was the one who gave the school my name for the trip to Trinidad…I didn’t want to go. I didn’t have any friends and I didn’t want to spend a week alone on an island. But even if I was mad at her, I kept hearing her voice when we arrived in Trinidad. She wanted me to act like a normal teenage boy, so I did the only thing I really wanted to do. Do you know what that was, Stiles?”

Stiles smiles. “Party all night on an illegal boat?”

“No, you idiot,” Derek says. “I just wanted to talk to you, but you were always with your friends. So I thought the party could be the perfect occasion to talk to you… _alone_.”

“Sorry I ruined your plan,” Stiles says, opening his eyes a little. “I would have liked talking to you, by the way. I wanted to ask you to prom last year, but I couldn’t do it in the end. Too shy.”

“You? Shy?”

“You make me shy,” Stiles mumbles. “Derek, I’m tired. Can I close my eyes for five minutes?”

 _You really can’t_ , Derek thinks. “Try to stay awake, okay?” he says instead. He drops a kiss on Stiles’ forehead and he feels it burn, but Stiles shivers under his touch. “Ask me all the questions you want. About me, my family, whatever you—”

“Do you hear that?”

“What? What kind of—” Stiles stops him with a hand on Derek’s mouth.

“Do you hear that?” Stiles whispers again, and then he falls asleep.

Derek hears it now. It’s a faint sound, regular and mechanical, and Derek wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for Stiles. He runs out of the hut, looking up to the blue sky. It looks the same as always to Derek, except for that sound. He stares at the sky again, scanning the big, white clouds. That’s when an helicopter—so small and far away that Derek can barely see it—comes out of the biggest cloud in the sky, looking like the most beautiful thing Derek has seen in months.

“Hey!” Derek yells, waving his hands in the air. “Help! Please!”

There’s no way the pilot is going to hear him. Derek runs back to the hut and searches through the stuff Stiles put in there. Their clothes fly everywhere, their stock of food ends up under Stiles’ pillow, and finally Derek finds what he’s looking for.

The flare gun.

“Stiles! They’re coming for us!” Derek yells, running out of the hut. He points the gun at the sky and fires. There’s a loud BOOM and then the sky over Derek’s head is turning a bright red. “We’re here! Hey!”

When the helicopter makes a sharp turn in the sky and starts heading towards the island, the constant lump in Derek’s throat disappears for the first time in months. He falls to his knees and buries his head in the sand, shaking.


	3. Chapter Three

Derek knows the Beacon Hills hospital like the back of his hand. He spent almost two months in there while his uncle Peter battled for his life, after the fire. Stiles’ room is on the fourth floor, but Derek doesn’t take the elevator. He takes his time up the stairs, walking slowly and careful not to be seen. It’s almost midnight, and usually Stiles is alone at that time, but Derek doesn’t want to risk.

Fourth floor. Right, left, left again. Stiles’ door is just like any other in the hospital, white and cold at touch. Derek pushes it, trying not to make any noise. Stiles is sleeping, peaceful and calm in the dim light of the hospital room. He’s skinny and pale, but his feet looks better. The reassuring beep of his heart is a comforting melody for Derek.

He sits next to Stiles’ bed and takes the boy’s hand. It’s been two weeks since an helicopter flew over their heads and they survived the island. It’s been two weeks since he hugged Laura again and she cried on his shoulder for an hour straight. It’s been two weeks since he last talked to Stiles. The first week had been rough even for Derek, who didn’t have any visible wounds like Stiles. He couldn’t seem to eat normal food anymore, his sleeping pattern was fucked up, his old bed was too comfortable to sleep in. Most importantly, there wasn’t anyone sleeping next to him. At the beginning of the second week, Derek had tried to visit Stiles at the hospital, but there were always his friends around. Scott, Allison and Lydia took turns to keep their friend company and Lydia even brought Stiles homework. Derek had seen the untouched pile on the bedside table, next to all the cards, and flowers and chocolates. Going back to school had been rough. Everyone looked at him like he was some sort of alien, Harris hated him because he had almost lost his job because of Derek and Stiles and Finstock always made him run ten minutes longer than the rest of the class. Not the Derek minded.

Stiles mumbles something in his sleep but doesn’t wake up. Derek looks at him and remembers the island, their hut, the lagoon with its clear water. He strokes Stiles’ knuckles and drops a kiss on his forehead. Derek has to go if he doesn’t want to explain to the Sheriff why he’s been sneaking in Stiles’ room for the past week.

Left, right, right again. Down the stairs and out of the hospital.

 

*

 

“You should go see him,” Laura says. “John says Stiles is subtly asking for you.”

“Why doesn’t he talk to me then?”

“Maybe he’s nervous. Just like you are.” Laura drops on the bed next to her brother and hugs him. “Look Derek, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened between you and Stiles on the island, but I also know you’ve been missing the boy since you came back.”

“I visited him at the hospital. He didn’t even look for me when he came back to school.”

“He doesn’t know about your visits, you idiot!” Laura sighs. “He was always asleep. Nobody saw you. How could he know?”

Derek shakes his head and refuses to answer. Laura tries to talk him into going to see Stiles for another ten minutes, but then she gives up and leaves him alone. When the door closes behind his sister, there’s a knock on his window. Someone is calling him from his backyard, trying to whisper but not really doing a good job. Derek’s heart is pounding like crazy when he opens the window and spots Stiles flailing his arms around, a backpack on his shoulder and a nervous smile on his lips.

“Stiles! What the hell are you doing?”

“I want to talk to you,” Stiles says. “Can I…I mean, I could climb—”

“No,” Derek stops him. “You just got out of the hospital. I’ll let you in, give me a minute.”

 

*

 

Derek’s house is the biggest Stiles has ever seen. He feels nervous when he walks inside, following Derek to his room, and then a little sad when he realizes there’s only two people living in there. Derek’s room is big, tidy, with books everywhere.

“What did you want to talk about?” Derek asks.

Stiles doesn’t know what to answer for a second. It’s so weird to see Derek dressed in normal way, with a simple shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is ruffled and he looks at ease in his room, the exact opposite of the constant sense of panic they felt on the island. The only sign of their two months long stay in the middle of the ocean is Derek’s tan, still visible even after almost a month.

“I—I just wanted to know how you were doing,” Stiles says. “Laura said you’re doing good in school.”

“You talked to Laura?”

“Sometime she visits my dad at the station,” Stiles explains. “I think they’re kind of friends now.”

Derek smiles. “Yeah, your dad has been great to Laura.”

Stiles drops on the floor and crosses his legs. He takes off his shoes and then one of his socks. “Look, my wound is completely healed. It was infected, that’s why I had the fever and…well, I think I said some pretty embarrassing things.”

Derek laughs, surprising himself. “Nothing worse than what you say all the time.” He drops on the floor in front of Stiles, mirroring his pose. Derek opens his mouth to say he’s sorry for not talking to Stiles for all this time, but just as the first words start to come out of his mouth Stiles starts apologizing. They both stop and look at each other, and then they start laughing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to you or called you,” Stiles says, still smiling. “You never came to the hospital, so I thought—”

“I visited you,” Derek interrupts him. “Every night for two weeks, while you were asleep. I’m sorry I didn’t come when you were awake. I’m sorry I didn’t call you when you got out of the hospital.”

“Okay, enough with the apologies,” Stiles says. “Maybe this month apart has helped us readjust to a normal life. I mean, my dad still cries every morning when he sees me having breakfast, but the rest is good. Scott and Allison are doing great. Lydia is dating a new guy. I ate lots of chocolate when I was at the hospital. Everything’s good.”

“I missed you, though,” Derek admits. He looks down at his crossed legs, blushing.

“Hey, I missed you, too,” Stiles says. “We lived together for two months and suddenly you weren’t there anymore. I—I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t even eat a banana without thinking about you. I—I left the pillow you made me on the island.”

“Isn’t a real pillow better?”

“Absolutely not!” Stiles says. “I can’t sleep anymore! My pillow is too…comfortable?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I can’t sleep well at night, either,” Derek says. That’s when he notices Stiles’ backpack on the floor. “What do you have in there, anyway?”

Stiles grins, a mischievous smile on his face. “Oh, I was hoping you would have asked.”

 

*

 

They’re in the hut again. A much safer, more stable and more comfortable hut made of pillows and sheets. Stiles is lying next to Derek, stroking his hair and talking about everything that happened to him during the past month.

The first kiss comes as easy as breathing. The second is passionate and demanding, taking their breaths away. Derek loses count of the kisses when Stiles climbs on top of him and pushes his hands under Derek’s shirt. Their breaths mix together under the sheets and pillows, their body fit together just like they did inside the hut on the island.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles whispers. “I love you.”

“I’m here,” Derek says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles knows what he’s doing. “I came prepared,” he says, grabbing his backpack. Derek watches with his eyes half closed as Stiles picks lube and condoms. “I don’t want to screw up.”

Derek lay Stiles down on the floor, kissing him everywhere and covering the other boy with his body. Derek watches as Stiles moves under him, moaning and panting when Derek guides himself inside him. It’s so simple between them, so natural and smooth, that Derek feels himself drowning into Stiles until he doesn’t know where he ends and Stiles begins anymore.

Stiles rolls beside Derek after the best experience in his life. He looks at Derek with sparkles in his eyes. “Can we stay here for a little more? I don’t want to go home.”

“We can stay here for as long as you want,” Derek reassures.

They stay inside their new hut, waiting for the sun to rise. They don’t sleep at all. When Derek’s room isn’t dark anymore Stiles smiles at him. “I needed this,” he says. “I think I’m ready to go outside, now.”

Derek nods. “We just needed one more night inside _our_ place.”

They link their hands together and go downstairs, where Laura is already singing happily in the kitchen.


End file.
